Glen Notes
by llmarmalade
Summary: I always thought the ending to Rilla of Ingleside was far too abrupt. I love Jane Austen's long drawn out endings. This is a collection of random vignettes from the different characters prospectives. They may not be chronologically ordered.
1. Chapter 1

I have always been obsessed with Rilla of Ingleside. This was the book that started my life long love of WWI and even my Socks For Soldiers knitting. Considering that my books are set in WWI era its fun to revisit Rilla. Since P. D. James writes fan fiction I guess I can too. Here are some unrelated vignette that I strung together. I am sticking quite close to the books.

_"The door bell rang, Rilla turned reluctantly stair wards. She must answer it—there was no one else in the house; but she hated the idea of callers just then. She went downstairs slowly, and opened the front door._

_A man in khaki was standing on the steps—a tall fellow, with dark eyes and hair, and a narrow white scar running across his brown cheek. Rilla stared at him foolishly for a moment. Who was it?_

_She ought to know him—there was certainly something very familiar about him—"Rilla-my-Rilla," he said._

_"Ken," gasped Rilla. Of course, it was Ken—but he looked so much older—he was so much changed—that scar—the lines about his eyes and lips—her thoughts went whirling helplessly._

_Ken took the uncertain hand she held out, and looked at her. The slim Rilla of four years ago had rounded out into symmetry. He had left a schoolgirl, and he found a woman—a woman with wonderful eyes and a dented lip, and rose-bloom cheek—a woman altogether beautiful and desirable—the woman of his dreams._

_"Is it Rilla-my-Rilla?" he asked, meaningly._

_Emotion shook Rilla from head" Joy—happiness—sorrow—fear—every passion that had wrung her heart in those four long years seemed to surge up in her soul for a moment as the deeps of being were stirred. She had tried to speak; at first voice would not come. Then—_

_"Yeth," said Rilla._

She wanted to look down at her feet; to avert her gaze before she revealed too much of her own heart. But she found that she could not look away. For an instant the pain of four years welled in her heart and then slowly dissipated. His eyes appeared so different; they were like Jem's, old eyes that seemed to view her as some sort of relic of past days.

Then the strange spell broke and she felt herself drawn to his heart. Arms strong with toil held her close and the brass buttons of the khaki uniform pressed against her face. Peace and trembling joy so filled her she could only absorb it all with slow comprehension like the twilight coming in a summer evening.

"I did not think you would come back." She lifted her head and gazed defiantly back at him. She would not be a complete fool over him.

" I said I would come back to you, Rilla-my-rilla. And I did."

" But you have been home a fortnight and I did not receive a single line. What was I to expect that you had quite forgotten about me." She smiled reproachfully up at him with the little questioning look in her brows very much in evidence. A harder heart than Kenneth Fords would have been unable to resist it.

"My mother was ill with influenza when I came home. For a time we were worried she would not survive. I would have come much sooner if not for that. I could not send a note. Some things cannot be expressed on paper." He touched the soft rose bloom cheek with tentative fingers and the color flamed up most becomingly.

" For instance, I do not think this could be conveyed in a letter." He bent his head with slow deliberation and kissed the dented, ruby lips tenderly. The touch was sweet with memories and warm with the hope which even war could not break.

Rilla came to herself with a start of horror. She was on the front porch kissing a soldier in broad daylight in view of anyone passing by. What would people think of her? Susan would be utterly scandalized. She disengaged herself and opened the door wider, "Please come in."

Her tone was almost formal though the eyes were shining and the nervous trembling of her hands revealed her discomfiture. She lead him into the drawing room and stood by the hearth feeling completely unable to think of a single thing to say. What must he think of her?

But Kenneth Ford was thinking of how plucky and courageous this woman was. Not for nothing had he read her letters and seen her grow more and more mature and the ready sympathy come through every line. But this elegant young woman was not the same person that had been so earnestly young in the before the war days. She might be horrified at his liberty.

"I'm sorry. I ought not to have done that. In fact I ought not to have ever extracted that promise from you. You were too young to understand what it meant to me." He stood near her but did not touch her.

She whirled about and her eyes snapped with temper though she felt nearer to tears than anything in her whole life, " Too young… Don't you know it was the only bright spot in an otherwise dark horizon? I kept that promise."

" I have loved you, Rilla Blythe since that night. You were holding Jim's in your arms and you looked like the picture of the Madonna my mother keeps on her desk. Yet I had heard too many rumors of Fred Arnold and believed you were his sweetheart. It was only a look in your eyes that made me think there was some hope after all. All these years I have waited to speak to you." He was looking down at her as if she was not a foolish child. The tones were velvety as they always had been, but older and slightly husker as if the years had roughened them, and she wondered if such beauty could come to her after so many tears and trials.

She came to him then and he held her close in the fading afternoon sunlight. They were broken, in the exquisite brokenness of lost youth, but they had gained certain knowledge in human nature. She at last murmured in broken strains, for she could not help but think of Walter and how he had predicted such a moment coming to her, "I have loved you always, I think. There was never one moment but it grew along with me."


	2. Chapter 2

**This chapter is mostly about Anne and Gilbert. I love how they stayed in love for so many years. They have such a sweet story.**

"May I speak to you, Dr. Blythe?" Kenneth Ford addressed the good doctor in a quiet manner. He had been invited to dinner and though there had been the usual awkwardness of long separation he had felt instantly welcome. Anne had soon figured out the truth between him and Rilla and though she had kept it a secret he could see her occasional smile and sigh. The rest had taken quite as a matter of course that he should call and did not see the frequent glances, smiles or even the notable fact that he was sitting next to Rilla. Dr. Blythe had not the least suspicion of the reason for this unusual conversation. He had not noticed Rilla's altered moods for the last few weeks and even if he had he would have subscribed it to grief over Walter. Like most fathers he viewed her as much as a child as little Bruce Meredith.

"Of course, perhaps a walk around the garden would be nice."

The evening was flush with the ecstasy of spring and the scent of lilacs and honeysuckle almost sickened the senses with their riotous odor. It was soothing to see how little this spot had changed. War had altered his prospective but not this shut away corner of Glen St. Mary.

Kenneth spoke without preamble. The war had taught him an abruptness of manner as well as a certain grave confidence, which was vastly different than his old cocky manner. " I want to ask your permission to marry Rilla."

If he had said he wished to murder Rilla Dr. Blythe would not have been more astonished. It was not just that his daughter was to his mind far too young to consider marriage but the utterly shocking fact that a boy who had shown no interest in his daughter at all was asking to marry her.

"She is very young." He replied cautiously.

"She is nineteen, Sir."

Dr. Blythe did not immediately answer but instead walked a few paces before turning to Kenneth. He was unusually grave but he was by no means unkind. "Rilla is very dear to me and my wife for she is the only one who was always at home through those dark days. She has been a comfort and support despite her youth. I suppose that I hoped to keep her a little longer but if she cares for you we must give her up."

"I believe she does care."

" You are Owen and Leslie Ford's son and a frequent visitor to our house. But I have not been unaware of certain rumors of your conduct previously. You have not seen each other for four years. How can you be sure that your affection for her will last a lifetime?"

Dr. Blythe could be very stern when he chose and this sternness made the young man flush slightly. "I assure you, Sir, that though my conduct was often thoughtless I never took unfair advantage of anyone. In addition I have loved your daughter for four years and viewed her correspondence as an essential part of my life. I am not wealthy but I have good prospects."

" I do believe you. I have no objection to you but I ask that a period of time elapse between an official engagements. I think it wise that you learn to know each other in person and that the normal courtship, which the war broke, would go on. Marriage is an exceedingly serious thing and my daughter is very much changed since you left. In many ways you are strangers to each other."

It was something of a disappointment to endure yet another delay but as the doctor was acting in utter sensibility Kenneth could not object. He had in his own mind no idea of changing his mind but perhaps Rilla would find him too altered from when he went away. So much of their time had been spent apart.

So he replied, "Thank you, Dr. Blythe. I may call on her?"

"Yes, you may. And I will warn you that all the good ladies of Glen St. Mary will be utterly scandalized and Mrs. Elliot may make sundry remarks about men as is her wont."

And so with a laugh that might have disguised a sigh Dr. Blythe went into the house to tell Anne the momentous news. She was writing letters with her usual delight in speaking her mind and he paused to watch her. The thought that his small daughter was now old enough to marry was unsettling. It did strike him as somewhat amusing that he had been terribly in love with Anne at the very same age that Rilla was now. How young he had been.

"Well, it seems that all these young people are making secrets behind our back. Kenneth Ford wants to marry our Rilla." He put his hand on her shoulder and sighed deeply.

"And what did you tell him?" Anne did not seem terribly surprised though she did put her pen down and turn to him.

"I told him he would have to wait a few months before he could consider an official engagement. I want to make sure that he really cares for her."

" I am sure he does. In fact they have loved each other for three years." Anne announced as if it was quite a regular and ordinary proceeding.

"How do you know? Or was it one of those unscientific things mothers know." He smiled down on her as she laughed.

"Rilla confessed that he had asked her not to kiss anyone else until he came back. And I could tell by her manner she loves him. Poor thing. It has been so hard for her. When I look back on how quiet and peaceful things were in our day it makes me so sad. To think the worst thing I had to worry about was the cow going into Mr. Harrison's field."

" Were we so secretive once?" He sat down beside the fire as the breeze ruffled her hair. It had begun to grey but still curled luxuriantly.

" Yes, of course. You might remember that I was unaware of being in love with you until it was almost too late. Really though, our children are so very sensible. They all know how they feel about the one they love. But I will miss her. We are so close to each other." She had begun on a happy note but sighed at the end.

He did not reply. He was thinking of how Anne would be affected but yet another loss. She was already so much changed from her old spritely self. But recently he had seen her seem to revive and even smile and laugh.

Anne got up and sat on the arm of his chair in a manner that would have horrified Susan provided she could see through walls. She pressed her cheek against the top of his head and whispered, "Well, we have each other. It will be like the dear old House of Dreams days. And then we have Susan. She is unlikely to desert us for the holy state of matrimony."

Edited to Add: Based on some comments (thanks Katherine-with-a-K) I realize some of my language was a bit stilted. So I edited it a bit. But there were no substantial changes made.


	3. Chapter 3

**This Chapter is mostly Rilla and Kenneth with a little bit of Susan and Anne because I just love Susan. She is so funny. I only hope I can capture a little of her speech pattern and mannerisms. Sorry this chapter is late. I have been swamped with finals this week. **

Rainbow Valley appeared just as peaceful as ever as Rilla sat down on the log, which was her usual resting place. The little sylvan glen had not changed. If only Walter were here to see them all. If only she could see his dark head lying on the grass reading or hear his conversations about books, poetry or philosophy. She was happy but with a stolen happiness which robbed the past of its joy. The scene before her, all bucolic quietness, was no longer able to comfort her. For this spot had been rudely invaded because the people who had once caused this glen to ring with laughter were no longer here to enjoy it.

"Rilla-my-rilla," she winced at Walter's pet name on Ken's lips. She would not have wished him to call her anything else and yet it was with a bittersweet joy that she heard received it.

"Do you wish me to call you something else? I know it was…" he sat beside her and took the limp hand resting on the grass.

"No, I like it. But I will always be reminded of him." She replied and for a moment rested her head against his shoulder.

"You know I didn't realize how hard it would be until I came here. Then I realized my old chum would no longer be promoting dire predictions."

"I am so changed. I wonder if he would even recognize me. I feel sometimes as if I am very old." She sighed mournfully and felt the gloom settle about her.

"Darling, you aren't quite ancient yet. In fact you look pretty good." He smiled down at her with a slight twinkle then continued, "I have spoken to your father. He wishes things to go as they are for a few months to ensure as he put it that 'we would understand each other'."

"My father is very old fashioned but I do love him. I think Mother is quite on my side and we have schoolgirl chats. I think I learn more about being grown up from those talks than any number of lectures or sermons." Rilla was content for things to drift delightfully forward. There had been rush and bustle interspersed with dreadful periods of inactivity but now things seemed to move at a normal pace.

Rilla sighed and said firmly, "I ought to have brought my hat. The freckles me."

"Let me see." Playfully he tilted her head toward the light and stared at her fixedly as if she was some interesting specimen in a microscope. "Yes, there are a few."

Rilla felt as humiliated as if she had been called "Spider". Occasionally she still felt that he treated her as he had during their childhood. " I hate my freckles. They are the bane of my existence as Mother says. I also hate the lisp though I only lisp when very much excited or nervous."

" They really are adorable." He leaned over and kissed the cheek, which was lightly dusted with the hated marks.

"Flatterer, now I know how you deceived the Toronto ladies. Though you must think of something more realistic than that." She replied with a tinkling laugh. She loved to tease him as she had with all the Glen boys. She was far from being above enjoying her power. She had once heard Irene Howard say rather slyly that men really were easy to manage when a woman knew how.

"I'm being serious." He was laughing too but she could see that he was serious. She was beginning to be able to read his expressions and to judge how he felt or thought.

"Cousin Sophia makes sure to keep me humble. She told me that I'm looking fat. There are times when I wish Susan hadn't made up with her. She is horribly scandalized that Jem and Faith were walking together at twilight. I guess in her day proper girls didn't walk with a man at night." Rilla added inconsequentially. Cousin Sophia was generally a source of great amusement to all the Ingleside people though they tried to keep their thoughts to themselves.

" Times are changing. Though not so fast in Glen St. Mary as other places." Ken replied.

"Is it really true that all those women in the city really do wear short dresses and lipstick and cut their hair?" Rilla asked rather wistfully. If she were really to live in Toronto it would be horrible to be old fashioned and dowdy looking.

"Not most of them. But my sister did. Then again my sister is always the first person to try the most outlandish things. Persis went through a stage when she looked like a circus performer or a gypsy. Poor mother almost had a heart attack at one dress which was a nauseating combination of green and orange."

Rilla couldn't help but laugh as she had seen such dresses in the fashion magazines her mother subscribed to. At one time Rilla would have been thrilled to own such a dress. But now she realized the hideousness of such a garment.

The lengthening shadows in Rainbow Valley as well as her own hunger reminded her that dinner was coming on. She rose regretfully and looked about her for a moment. There were times when she felt as if she could see her brother's Piper still lingering in the valley taunting her to be happy if she dared.

"Won't you stay to dinner?" she looked down at her companion.

"I can't. Cousin Mary doesn't like making dinner for just two people. She'll chew me out for sure."

Ken pulled her close for a moment and kissed her in parting. Rilla stared at him for an instant then began walking lightly toward the house. There were times when Rilla Blythe was utterly confusing. She was the strangest combination of childish innocence and womanly wisdom. That glance was a perfect example.

Susan and Anne were in the kitchen when Rilla floated past them and when upstairs to fix her hair and clothes for dinner. Susan had been scandalized at the news that Rilla had a beau. If anyone else in Glen St. Mary, most notably Mrs. Elliot or Mary Vance or even Aunt Sophia, had said Rilla was too young she would have been the first to tell them that Rilla was nineteen and many girls in her day had been married at nineteen. But her private opinion was that these modern doings were immoral and not suitable. Kenneth Ford was not a bad young man as young men came but he was not good enough for an Ingleside girl. He was far too modern and a Toronto man.

"Mrs. Doctor Dear, I do not know where this world is coming to. Jerry and Nan are close to an understanding and now Rilla…I think in my day things were much simpler. I almost died when that soldier greeted her so familiarly. In my day a girl wouldn't dream of letting someone embrace you in broad daylight and that you may tie to." Susan continued shelling peas and shaking her head.

Anne only smiled indulgently and replied, "Susan, we are old. Things are changing very fast. But Rilla is quite a sensible girl and she will not do anything unwise. At least she isn't like Irene Howard who has taken to wearing paint and cutting her hair."

Susan snorted and said, "To think that when that young man came I sat there all the evening. I thought he was boring her. To think that a romance was brewing under my very nose."

She was rather offended that she had not been able to ferret out this romance before anyone else. But then a comforting thought arose and she replied more cheerfully, "It was just as well I was there. You never can tell what young people will do when their elders aren't present."

Anne put down her sewing and answered Susan gently, "I am quite sure you are a proper chaperone. But though it shall be hard to give her up I am glad for her. I think she will be very happy."

Susan muttered quite under her breath, "And she is going to live in Toronto. All those mainland will look down on poor Rilla. Not to say she isn't a fine looking child but she is young."

Susan quite comforted herself by making Shirley's favorite dessert and Anne could hear her banging pots and pan in almost her old cheerful fashion. Susan could always know when her mind slipped back to her boy. She knew she must be brave and keep the faith but at times it was very hard work to keep a smile on her face.


	4. Chapter 4

**I always found Una to be one of the most interesting characters in LMM's books. She is really a surprisingly complex character. I love Una partly because we are both shy and withdrawn and partly because I identify with her love story. There are plenty of parallels in our lives ( though not of course war). I hope I captured her. She is so hard to write. **

Una sat in the Manse parlor and carefully unpicked the seams of last year's spring dress. Mary Vance's wedding would shortly be upon her and Una was expected to be her bridesmaid. The dress was slightly too large. She found it difficult to eat sometimes and though she realized she could not lose much more weight it hardly troubled her.

Just this very morning she had sat before the mirror arranging her hair and noticed how old she looked. Faith was floating on air because Jem was home but Una knew that her sister's beauty was glowing and almost electric. Her own pale face, strange thin lips and odd features made her sigh. She was plain and knew it. Nor indeed did she have any other characteristics that would make her attractive or noteworthy. She was not brilliant, clever or unusually artistic. She was just Una.

Certainly she had never had anything to attract him. Even as a child she had viewed him with the awe born of him being someone so different than the usual boy. She had never liked most of them; they were rude and coarse and loved to make her cry. But Walter had been so kind to her. He had never teased her or made fun of shyness and fear.

She had never once thought of that adoration as anything but natural until that dreadful day in the summer a few years before the War started. She had been in Rainbow Valley and as usual listening to the rest a little apart. Faith had said something funny and thrown out her arms dramatically to prove her point with the bright color flooding her face. Una had glanced at Jem and seen the look of admiration and tenderness on his normally contented countenance. Then she had chanced a look at Walter and caught for an instant an expression, which caused a queer twisting in her stomach and a tight breathlessness in her lungs. The expression was not just longing, that would have made her rather disconcerted, but a sad wistfulness over Faith's very elusive, fairy like spirit.

Walter was in love with Faith? Even at the time it had struck her heart with painful intensity. But Jem and Faith loved each other. Una never doubted that for an instant. Walter would not have a chance. She had seen the strange light in her sister's eyes as they brushed their hair in the still hour before bed. Jem and Faith were so ideally suited to each other though they never revealed their feelings through poetry but through glances, innocent hidden touches that meant more than words and the quiet support of strong friendship. But Walter, he loved in such an odd intense way that must reveal itself in words. She had read the sonnets clearly written for Faith and sighed with the hopelessness of love so rarely bringing anything but empty echoes.

Sometimes she was terribly envious of Faith. Faith didn't need Walter's love and didn't even recognize it. There were times Una longed to be her sister. To be beautiful and fascinating with that wild charm and loveliness that took the air out of people's lungs was something she secretly wanted. Other times she wished to have the power to ease the pain of the impossible from his life; to comfort the warm passionate nature into calmness. She never expected to inspire poetry but only act as some sort of salve toward a wounded heart.

Una stood up and smoothed the fabric, as her stepmother looked toward her, "Are you all right, Una You have lost weight. Won't you see Dr. Blythe and see if he can give you medicine?"

Una thoughtlessly replied, "Yes, I will."

She wondered if she could bear to see him. He would know of course that her loss of appetite was caused by grief but of course he would never know the cause. No one knew the cause except perhaps for Rilla. Rilla had after all given her Walter's last letter.

She stepped outside and saw moon cast pale shadows over the silent yard. She moved like a wraith toward the graveyard and sat down on a tombstone. Sometimes she longed to sob wildly but she had not sobbed since she had received the news that dreadful night. She had never understood before what it was to bleed inwardly to wish to scream out in some empty space to relieve the ache.

He had come upon her once in this very spot not long after the war had started. The misery of being forgotten had been all but abolished in joy of being singled out even if just for a few moments. He had talked to her as if she was somehow more noble and self-sacrificing than him. He seemed to know she understood as the rest could hardly understand. When he leaned down and said in a desperate tone, "It torments me; to be involved in such a war and yet it is almost worse to do nothing. I wish I was dead."

It had taken all her strength not to fling her arms about his neck and comfort him with her own sympathy. She wanted to hurt those foolish women who sent him white feathers. He didn't deserve such treatment; that fine noble spirit deserved more than insults and sneers. He wasn't a coward at all. She was the coward. She was the coward for not taking her sorrow bravely.

There had been that time when he danced with her at the Four Winds dance. Una wasn't supposed to dance but at that moment she would hardly have refused him anything. She supposed he felt sorry for her sitting alone on the rocks. It had been strange to her to be held as if she was beautiful like Faith and dance softly to the haunting tones of the fiddle. Una had wondered if that was what standing on the edge of cliff felt like. If the gaze from his warm grey eyes had caught hers for an instant she saw it slid away toward the sea without connecting. She had been so close to him for just one instant but it had meant nothing. It was as if they were two forms passing in the dark that almost touched but never truly met.

Una was numb when she realized that he had enlisted. She had somehow known from the first that he would in fact do so. It did not strike her as inconsistent that he had changed his mind. To her it seemed an evolution of the fine impulses that had kept him from doing so before. Even then she had known somehow that the Piper that had figured so largely in her childish fancy would come and take him from her.

That moment at the station when she had fought so hard not to cry that she dug her fingernails into her palms until she bled came back to her as the wind swept down upon her sharp from the sea. She had looked down at her hand and found an odd satisfaction in the blood and pain that distracted her from the separation.

Then he had kissed her. Even now she sometimes wondered if after all she had imagined it. That sanity had left her completely. And yet she knew she couldn't have imagined it. It was just the merest whisper of a kiss, delivered on a train platform in front of a crowd of onlookers. It wasn't passionate like the moving picture nor did it deceive her into thinking that it was anything but a friendly kiss. She had never been kissed before and for a moment the mask slipped. All the emotions she had hidden far back in her heart slipped into the forefront and shone radiantly on her face. But as he turned and waved goodbye to the crowd of his loved ones she knew somehow that tender salutation would be her last. It was only then she understood truly the way her sister had looked when she came in from Rainbow Valley after meeting Jem for the last time before he went away. The glowing flush and the way she had said, "Una, it just fills you up until you can't figure out if you are laughing and crying. Then you just want to be so close you want to faint but of course you don't actually faint. Its so glorious and horrible." Una had been rather shocked at the time but now she understood what her sister had been talking about.

Una tore her thoughts away from the past with great effort. She found to her surprise that tears were running down her cheeks. For a moment she fought them but then she surrendered to pain and allowed herself to feel the rawness of the pain as if the grief was new. It was freeing to feel again and to allow herself to float aimlessly through the memories.

She did not see the figure on the path to the Manse for her head was bowed and her back was to it. Shirley did not speak and turned respectfully away to knock on Rosemary Meredith's door and give her loves of tea bread Susan had sent him over with. He shook his head at her grief and wished he might help her. But what could he say?

After all he was unable to overcome himself. He saw the comrades who had never come home and now lay in some abandoned field. He saw those who had been captured and half starved in a prisoner of war camp as the depleted German stores ran dangerously low. But most of all he saw little Annette who had seemed the human replication of the mayflowers standing as he last saw her with her eyes aglow with the wonder of being seventeen and in love. In six weeks she was dead from a dreadful combination of starvation and influenza. Somehow he did not wonder that Una was sobbing in the darkness of an old graveyard. He rather felt like joining her.


	5. Chapter 5

**I think this may be the last chapter unless I come up with some new angle. This chapter is mostly about Ken. I had trouble because his character appears so little in the story. Sometimes I feel like I'm writing about a completely new character. A lot of fan fiction portray him as a bit of a player who manipulates Rilla. That seems creepy to me considering how young Rilla is. I prefer to portray him as a person who likes to flirt with girls but ended up getting hurt himself. **

**'I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun." Jane Austen**

Kenneth Ford had come to Ingleside several weeks before the Four Winds party. He had often spent days at Ingleside in his boyhood years but recently his attention had been claimed elsewhere. It was natural that a young man of a family much revered in Toronto society would be invited often to parties and gatherings of people with a much higher social standing than the Blythes.

He was not exactly a snob but neither was he unaware that both his mother and Persis had hopes of him making a match among the wealthiest families. But the society ladies were all so tiresome. It had been exciting at first to see their adoration and admiring looks. They had smiled and flirted with practiced ease. They had fascinated and flattered him with their evident pleasure in his society. Kenneth, though proud was not entirely unaware of the fact that none of them thought of him completely seriously. He had no private fortune of his own and would be entirely dependent on his own labor to earn one. Therefore stories passed about his character as a heart breaker more from fact that he had not fortune enough to cover over their impropriety. He had done nothing truly scandalous but had the cheek of believing himself good enough to flirt with girls who had vast fortunes.

There had been the lovely Louisa Rutherford, of a wealthy American father and a refined Canadian mother, who had captured his fancy until he had been compelled to write stunningly pathetic love letters. She had seemed at the time to be as enchanting as the moonlight on a summer night but soon her character had revealed itself to be slightly more prosaic. Louisa had been charm itself in the beginning and had spoken in sultry tones of his "romantic nature, so like Keats." He would have been tempted to follow in Walter's footsteps and write poetry to the lovely creature. But she had soon be surrounded by hoards of other eligible men and had turned decidedly cold when she found out he was not as rich as she had first dreamed. His hopes of someday winning a great fortune to lay at her feet had been dashed by her sudden marriage to an American businessman many years her senior. He had been heartbroken at first and then gradually grew to be heartily glad to escape. To marry such a woman with no more heart than a jellyfish even if she was perfectly lovely would have been unendurable.

He was sitting by Di who was more engaged in talking eagerly with Nan and Jerry over political philosophy when a figure appeared in the walk and came slowly toward them. It was Rilla Blythe though at first he had not recognized her. She had grown a great deal in the last few months and now seemed far older than her almost fifteen years. Her hair was of a particular ruddy brown that curled about her face in a soft halo and her eyes seemed to glow with warmth and laughter. The skin had a lovely transparent clearness, which nevertheless did not give off the impression of ill health. The rosy lip had a perfect cupids bow and little dent, which made her smile an enchantment. In short Rilla Blythe was a perfect beauty and Kenneth Ford who considered himself an expert in female loveliness was quite inclined to think her one of the prettiest girls in Glen St Mary.

She sat down beside him as there was only one seat available and leaned back staring unseeingly on the grass in front of her. She was normally very talkative but a terrified nervousness had seemed to take over her and she could only remain silent or betray it. Kenneth was not inclined to join in the talk of others. He had no particular interest in Political Philosophy or Middlemarch subjects the others found so engrossing. He considered that Rilla must be incredibly bored with such talk.

"So are you going to Queens, Spider?" he asked her with a smile.

"No. I'm quiteth a dunce and am not ambitious at all." She replied nervously but there was a bitter edge of anger in her tone. She was probably furious over his old name for her. He rather regretted the pet name.

Kenneth could quite forgive her for being a normal girl who did not enjoy study. She was the type who liked good times and parties. Her sisters were so very studious. She rather reminded him of Persis.

"Well, I'm sure there are plenty of things to do. Persis always tells me that she is never happy unless she has three invitations a week and a half a dozen beaus." He replied with a careless laugh.

"Oh yes indeed. That would be delightful. But my parents are so old fashioned and wish me to be sober and studious and know all the all isms." Rilla sighed drearily.

"I think parents always forget they were ever young. Father is always ragging on me for not being serious enough." He replied confidentially and was rather pleased to see that she had seemed to thaw considerably. She still had a rather pained expression on her face that made him feel slightly guilty.

His attention was claimed by Nan who wished him to confirm her point on living with an author. Not long afterwards he was forced to take his leave and deep in his heart was forced to admit that he was a trifle disappointed not to be able to finish his conversation with Rilla Blythe.

The Four Winds dance had not had any enchantment to him until he had overheard a bit of idle gossip that expressed surprise that the Blythes would allow their youngest daughter to attend a dance. Even then the feeling had been completely momentary and predominant was the annoyance at having a lame ankle, which made dancing quite painful.

He had studiously avoided the attentions of both Ethel Reese and Irene Howard who were two girls he had always been irritating. They were not practiced enough to be successful at flirting nor genuine enough to be taken seriously. Only a few days ago he had been all but forced to walk Ethel Reese home from church by her own obvious attempts. So he leaned against the wall quite content to be ignored and allow his ankle to rest.

It was then he saw Rilla across the room. She was dressed in some soft green drapery of transparent silk, which gave a fairy like appearance to the straight figure. The color was becoming to her complexion and every boy in the room seemed completely aware of her beauty. He was slightly disturbed at the rush of admiration of her beauty. She was too young to be thought of.

It would not be wrong to ask her to dance. In fact it would be rude not to. He made his way toward her with the definite intension of distracting her from the young man who even as he came near disappeared with the older woman who must have been his mother.

"_Is it Rilla-my-Rilla?_" He asked softly and found himself putting more stress on the words than he had intended. It was an old pet name of Walter's and rather sweet.

"_Yeth._" The endearing lisp had come back and made her seem more human than before. She was gazing up at him in a disconcerting questioning manner, which made her appear ages older than her real age at the same time an innocent girl without guile.

"May I have the next dance?" he asked despite his ankle.

"Yes." She replied so firmly that it was obviously in an attempt to stop her lisp. But she looked down and all he could see was the soft white lids hiding her eyes and the long lashes resting on her cheek.

They danced a moment in silence and he was quite contented to watch her and hold her quite respectably apart. She was grace itself on her feet and he supposed she must be rather annoyed at dancing with one who could barely dance at all.

He winced once at a fast turn and she looked up in concern and asked quickly, "Are you all right? How is your ankle?"

He was profoundly tired of talking about his ankle and normally replied rather ill temperedly to remarks about it. But he was quite willing to forgive a question delivered by dented lips and soft hazel eyes that were filled with anxious concern.

He filled her in with full particulars and when the dance was ended could not resist going out with her on the rocks and eating the delicate supper with her. It would of course cause gossip for him to pay such decided attention to her but it was not actually indiscreet. He saw the rather wrathful glance Mary Vance turned his way and ignored it. Mary Vance was no paragon of virtue to spend all her evening with Miller Douglas despite Mrs. Elliot's words to the contrary.

He remembered little about the actual conversation for it was quite blurred over by the news that war had come. All he would remember was the soft light of her eyes and the way her lips moved softly as she made some little remark. She was enchanting innocence and so different from the ladies in his circle who were always calculated and never made a remark out of pure enthusiasm.

From that night on he had a distinct admiration of Rilla Blythe. She occasionally intruded herself on his consciousness with a strange intensity but he was preoccupied with war news and his own impatience to join the Army. Everywhere the world had gone mad with war news and here he was forced to sit back and watch.

Nevertheless he received a surprising amount of news about Rilla. His mother and Mrs. Blythe corresponded frequently and what was more natural than his mother should read the letters to Persis and himself. Persis was found of gossip and close friends with the Ingleside girls. And since Rilla was the only girl still residing at home it was natural that Mrs. Blythe should write frequently about her.

It was in that way that he heard about how many socks she knitted and how she organized the Junior Reds. They were small accomplishments but revealed a serious side to her nature he had never suspected. Half unconsciously he had waited eagerly for news of her and when he had heard that she had taken up a war orphan to raise such a wave of admiration for her pluck filled him that he was forced to look out the window lest his mother or sister notice the unwonted emotion on his face.

"Well, I never thought Rilla Blythe was the steady sort but obviously she is. Anne must be very proud of her." His mother folded up the letter and began to knit her sock with considerable energy.

"I could never do it. I despise children." Persis spoke languidly from her couch, which she was draped gracefully across. She was dressed in many bright garments that pooled across the floor in almost deafening intensity.

"Persis! You cannot mean that. Of course you wouldn't feel that way about your own children." Mrs. Ford's tone was horrified and Persis gave a short laugh.

"Perhaps not. But Rilla Blythe has more strength than I gave her credit for."

His mother rose and said abstractedly, "I must go upstairs and look for the Red Cross pattern. I seem to have misplaced it."

The moment that she had left Persis turned to him and said with marked scrutiny, "My dear brother, I quite approve of your paragon of virtue."

"What? Who? I have no idea what you are talking about." he replied having been shaken out of his curious abstraction caused by seeing in his minds eye a sweet form preforming all those plain unexciting duties so willingly for her country's sake.

"My dear brother, I'm not blind. I can't help but be aware of how your face changes when you hear news of her. You are surprisingly transparent in your feelings. Men always are to sisters. Besides the gossips quite sang about how you spent the whole evening with her at the dance." Persis leaned her head against the arm of the chair and saw him start in surprise with a triumphant smile.

"It means nothing. Rilla is very pretty that is all." He replied.

Persis abruptly sat up and stared at him intently for an instant, " Though I have never been fond of Rilla Blythe I am honest enough to admit she is a nice, sweet girl. She is extremely beautiful but she is young enough to be some danger. Difference in age makes little difference when the girl in question is old enough to know her own mind. Your reputation, one which her father would not be pleased about, is not unknown to Ingleside and what may be for you a harmless flirtation could permanently ruin either her reputation or her heart. Things like that don't matter here but in sleepy little Glen St. Mary it does."

"I won't hurt her. Besides she is surrounded by beaus." He stared moodily out the window and wished his sister's words were not so pointed.

"Even if your intensions are good and you seriously care for her she is still in danger. In fact I would say even more danger. Admiration is remarkably tempting even to a woman of many years and much experience. The beaus you speak of are Glen boys who are afraid to touch the hem of her garment. Be very careful, Ken."

It was easy enough to ignore his sister's warning at the time but the pricks of his own conscious was too much to entirely put aside. How would he have felt about a cad who tried to break his sister heart at Rilla's young age?

For some time he successfully avoided contacting Rilla either by letter or by telephone. When he visited Ingleside she was away and his message to her was so unsentimental and foolish as to leave no impression of lasting feeling. There were also many distractions, most notably the rapidly approaching day in which he would leave his family for the front.

He left them all with the half ashamed excitement which seemed awful in light of their grief. It seemed unfair that he could look upon this event like a summer holiday when they looked upon it as a funeral. There were accounts that could dispel the myth that the war was a grand adventure. Newspaper accounts of causalities and the plunder of countries and civilizations was enough to make even the most careless take note.

He had not intended to call her. It was not within his innate code of ethics most notably called being "square" to call her and put up with that sentimental leave taking which was a thousand times harder on a girl who was forced to either pretend sympathy for one she cared little for or to hide real grief to send her lover away with a smile. It would be far better to leave her be. But the temptation was too strong. To not see her was hard indeed and he assuaged his conscience with the idea that she would not really care. The rumors about Fred Arnold would serve as protection.

She had not seemed particularly glad to hear him. True, it had been a party line and he had been unable to make his meaning as clear as he wished. She had sounded distracted and it seemed foolish indeed to expect a pretty popular girl to care particularly for her brother's best friend.

She had was so overpoweringly lovely as she stood in the moonlight and though she did not talk much he could see the subtle change in her. She looked much the same but her manner was graver and quieter without the frequent lapses into laugher of before. He was relieved that the house was all but empty except for Shirley who never interfered.

"_This was better than I expected_." He could not help but remark while looking at her significantly. She sat in her seat with her face half screened in shadows but with the eyes fixed on the ground. She did not reply but for an instant her eyes met his with curious depth.

""_I was sure someone would be hanging about and it was just you I wanted to see, Rilla-my-Rilla." _He hadn't meant to speak in that way but it was such a relief to see her in the moonlight and to be able to gaze on her without any interference from kindly prying eyes.

"It has been rather quiet around here recently." She replied with a slight shudder.

"I'm sure that Fred Arnold rather fills the blank." He replied without removing his gaze from her face. He found himself leaning forward as if drawn by an invisible thread until their foreheads almost touched. Her breath came in quick, short gasps that faintly brushed his cheek. Her fingers were clenching the arm of her chair until the knuckles whitened. She had never seemed more nervous.

She had no time to reply for the child had begun to cry and she was forced to go upstairs and comfort him. Kenneth was rather relieved. Another instant and he might have been tempted to throw caution to the winds and do something he might regret like kiss the softly parted lips. He wondered vaguely if she would be angry and run away or if she would smile and blush in the darkness.

When she came down with Jims in her arms he sat and watched her without speaking. He had thought her a pretty thoughtless girl, then a brave and plucky one and finally as a sweet and tender woman. The soft maternal look on her face with the child pressed close to her and the bend of her head toward the golden haired infant was indescribably dear. It was the kind of expression which a man about to be sent to face unspeakable horror could dream of. It reminded her of the Madonna picture on his mother's desk. The thought that a woman at such a thoughtless age could hold a child who did not belong to her with such tenderness was delicate proof on the innate goodness of her nature. How much more would she care for her own children and family with deep love.

It was then that he knew he loved her. He gazed upon the sight with almost embarrassment at the intimacy of her expression. She had probably forgotten he existed. She would never know how he would carry the image of her in his heart into the darkest parts of the earth where the light of all good and noble things seem utterly snuffed out.

He wished to explain something of this to her when she came back downstairs after putting Jims to bed. But no sooner than she had sat down then Susan came home and seemed determined to entertain him with the most banal of trivialities She was entertaining and it was hard work not to laugh at her for the old fashioned comments she made about the family. But Susan Baker could take the romance out even the most perfect evening and he wondered if Rilla had asked her to stay so he would not say something that would make Fred Arnold's girl uncomfortable.

Certainly she gave him no reason to hope that she cared for him. She was so quiet and though she was clearly annoyed at some of Susan's comments she made no attempt to get rid of her by some gentle subterfuge. When it grew late enough that he was forced to rise and bid Susan a kindly farewell he was bitterly disappointed.

It was only when he stood on the steps and looked up at her in the soft moonlight with the scent of mint crushed and mingled under his feet that he saw the painful longing in her eyes. She was silent but her eyes spoke a secret language that he could interpret. She cared for him. Fred Arnold must be a rumor.

He placed his hand against her cheek and felt a trace of dampness as if she had been crying. Kenneth did not consider the consequences of kissing her or what her reaction would be. The moment of thinking, of playing the intricate dance of prudence and reason had long ago vanished, and was replaced by the longing of instant pain and separation. Soon this moment would be as far away as the old days in which he had sat in a quiet nursery and played war with toy soldiers. She would be as far away and only this memory would remain. He only knew in that moment he could not go away without the touch of her lips and token of love she would not express in words. He was very tender and gentle, as any man who gives a woman her first kiss ought to be.

"_Rilla, you are the sweetest thing._" He murmured the words against her cheek and waited to see if she would be indignant.

But she wasn't. Her eyes looked into his with a glance like a shy kiss and he dared to speak in her ear, "Will you promise not to kiss anyone else until I come home?"

"Yes," she spoke shyly and without moving away.

He stepped back and spoke a casual goodnight. Susan must not suspect that anything had happened. He walked down the steps and down the road without another word. Just once he turned and saw her at the gate waving and then he rounded the bend and passed beyond. There were moments when he heard ringing in his ears of Walter's Piper playing soft music in Rainbow Valley. At that moment he heard it and was almost superstitious.

It would be four years before he saw her again. And in those years there was so much change and momentous shaking of the foundations of civilization that it was hard to imagine Glen St. Mary when he thought back on it. He tried to pour out his longing to see her on paper but every time he came up empty. It was not that he could not write but only that he could not write what he longed to write. He wished to write of his pain and weariness at the ceaseless struggle for survival but how could one write of that and at the same time write of joy and love. It was impossible to feel that even love itself had not been tarnished into some dark fantasy by the blood of fallen. It was as if "No Man Land" itself stretched between them and even her homelike letters seemed to widen the gulf between them.

She seemed different from the thoughtless girl of before. Walter's death was a terrible grief and she wrote frequently of her sorrow. In this he almost envied her simple straightforward emotions, which were so different than his own desperate attempts to shut out the horror of war and death. But her letters were not love letters and she might have written them to her brothers. Almost he thought that the scene on her porch was a mere fragment of his imagination.

On that memorable day when he appeared on her porch it was a divided and conflicted person who rapped on her door. He loved her but could love be enough to cover over the scars of the war years? The house itself had changed little and even the garden appeared so remarkably like years gone by he could almost imagine himself a small child visiting his "Aunt Anne." And when Rilla Blythe opened the door it was the same, and yet a different, woman who looked with uncertain eyes at him.


End file.
